A new revolution is under way in American political science. The last revolution—behavioralism—has scarcely been completed before it has been overtaken by the increasing social and political crises of our time. The weight of these crises is being felt within our discipline in the form of a new conflict in the throes of which we now find ourselves. This new and latest challenge is directed against a developing behavioral orthodoxy. This challenge I shall call the post-behavioral revolution.

The initial impulse of this revolution is just being felt. Its battle cries are relevance and action. Its objects of criticism are the disciplines, the professions, and the universities. It is still too young to be described definitively. Yet we cannot treat it as a passing phenomenon, as a kind of accident of history that will somehow fade away and leave us very much as we were before. Rather it appears to be a specific and important episode in the history of our discipline, if not in all of the social sciences. It behooves us to examine this revolution closely for its possible place in the continuing evolution of political science. Does it represent a threat to the discipline, one that will divert us from our long history in the search for reliable understanding of politics? Or is it just one more change that will enhance our capacity to find such knowledge?

In The Responsible Electorate, V. O. Key urged upon us “the perverse and unorthodox argument … that voters are not fools.” He challenged the notion that the voting act is the deterministic resultant of psychological and sociological vectors. He believed that the evidence supported the view of the voter as a reasonably rational fellow. The present article offers a corollary to Key's “unorthodox argument.” It suggests that certain sociological determinants, secifically group norms regarding party identification, may, upon examination, prove to be rational guides to action. For the voter who is a reasonably rational fellow, it will be argued, these group norms may seem rather sensible.

Before proceeding to the analysis of data, some discussion of the notion of rationality seems in order. The usage subscribed to in the present analysis derives from contemporary game theory. Put most simply, being rational in a decision situation consists in examining the alternatives with which one is confronted, estimating and evaluating the likely consequences of each, and selecting that alternative which yields the most attractive set of expectations. Formally, this process entails making calculations of the following type as a basis for the decision:

where:

E(Vai) = expected value of alternative i.

P(oj∣ai) = probability of outcome j given that V(oi) = value of outcome j to the decision maker.

Economic development has consequences for many aspects of social life. Some of these social consequences, in turn, have an impact on a nation's political life. Studies of social mobilization, for example, have demonstrated that economic development is associated with sharp increases in the general level of political participation. These studies report strong relationships between aggregate socio-economic measures such as per capita income, median level of education, and percentage of the population in urban areas, on one hand, and aggregate measures of political participation, such as voting turnout, on the other. Simultaneously, scholars conducting surveys of individual political participation consistently have reported that an individual's social status, education, and organizational memberships strongly affect the likelihood of his engaging in various types of political activities.

In spite of the consistency of both sets of findings across many studies and although the findings appear frequently in analysis of political stability, democracy, and even strategies of political growth, we know little about the connections between social structure and political participation. With few exceptions the literature on individual participation is notable for low level generalizations (the better educated citizen talks about politics more regularly), and the absence of systematic and comprehensive theory. While the literature on the growth of national political participation has been more elaborate theoretically, the dependence on aggregate measures has made it difficult to determine empirically how these macro social changes structure individuals' life experiences in ways which alter their political behavior.

The Cuban missile crisis is a seminal event. For thirteen days of October 1962, there was a higher probability that more human lives would end suddenly than ever before in history. Had the worst occurred, the death of 100 million Americans, over 100 million Russians, and millions of Europeans as well would make previous natural calamities and inhumanities appear insignificant. Given the probability of disaster—which President Kennedy estimated as “between 1 out of 3 and even”—our escape seems awesome. This event symbolizes a central, if only partially thinkable, fact about our existence. That such consequences could follow from the choices and actions of national governments obliges students of government as well as participants in governance to think hard about these problems.

Improved understanding of this crisis depends in part on more information and more probing analyses of available evidence. To contribute to these efforts is part of the purpose of this study. But here the missile crisis serves primarily as grist for a more general investigation. This study proceeds from the premise that marked improvement in our understanding of such events depends critically on more self-consciousness about what observers bring to the analysis. What each analyst sees and judges to be important is a function not only of the evidence about what happened but also of the “conceptual lenses” through which he looks at the evidence. The principal purpose of this essay is to explore some of the fundamental assumptions and categories employed by analysts in thinking about problems of governmental behavior, especially in foreign and military affairs.

The purpose of this paper is to sketch some of the implications, prospective and retrospective, of the primacy of method in the present study of politics and to do it by way of a contrast, which is deliberately heightened, but hopefully not caricatured, between the vocation of the “methodist” and the vocation of the theorist. My discussion will be centered around the kinds of activity involved in the two vocations. During the course of the discussion various questions will be raised, primarily the following: What is the idea which underlies method and how does it compare with the older understanding of theory? What is involved in choosing one rather than the other as the way to political knowledge? What are the human or educational consequences of the choice, that is, what is demanded of the person who commits himself to one or the other? What is the typical stance towards the political world of the methodist and how does it compare to the theorist's?

The discussion which follows will seek, first, to locate the idea of method in the context of the “behavioral revolution,” and, second, to examine the idea itself in terms of some historical and analytical considerations. Then, proceeding on the assumption that the idea of method, like all important intellectual choices, carries a price, the discussion will concentrate on some of the personal, educational, vocational, and political consequences of this particular choice. Finally, I shall attempt to relate the idea of the vocation of political theory to these same matters.

Despite the fact that the study of politics has become increasingly empirical, quantitative and “behavioral” in recent years, and despite the apparently increasing tendency to feel that whatever meaningful debate ever existed between the behavioralists and the anti-behavioralists has ended, should end, or at least has become irrelevant since a more sophisticated and empirically productive behavioralism now predominates in virtually all fields of the discipline, the methodological debate continues, diminished perhaps in quantity but not in intensity.

This essay is based on the assumption that the antagonists concerned with the methodological issues raised by the “new science of politics” have but rarely focused precisely on the arguments raised by their opponents. A second motivating assumption is that nothing constructive, conciliatory or conducive to the integration of the discipline can be done “until the issues have been squarely confronted on the basic and general plane of philosophy….” A thorough analysis of all of the meaningful issues involved can only be a task of long-range proportions. But in the hope of bringing about some degree of communication, if not reconciliation, it is my intention in this essay to bring one of these issues into sharper focus, to show that almost despite themselves, some of the critics and proponents of the “new science of politics” have addressed themselves to the problem of concept formation, and that despite their proclaimed differences are talking at cross-purposes about a similar problem. Indeed, it will be seen that the conflict between the “traditionalists” and the “behavioralists” is utterly dependent—in the area of concept formation—upon an outmoded positivistic interpretation of behavioral science and a misguided reaction on the part of some political theorists to that obsolete conception.

We are now in the midst of a notable revival of interest in the politics of the American states. During the last decade many studies have been conducted of the social, political and economic determinants of state policy outcomes. Several of these writers have argued that the relative wealth of a state, its degree of industrialization, and other measures of social and economic development are more important in explaining its level of expenditures than such political factors as the form of legislative apportionment, the amount of party competition, or the degree of voter participation. It has been claimed that such factors as the level of personal income or the size of the urban population are responsible both for the degree of participation and party competition in a state, and the nature of the system's policy outputs. By making this argument these writers have called into question the concepts of representation and theories of party and group conflict which, in one form or another, are the foundations for much of American political science.

There is a growing awareness, however, that levels of expenditure alone are not an adequate measure of public policy outcomes. Sharkansky has shown, for example, that levels of expenditure and levels of actual service are seldom correlated; presumably, some states are able to reach given service levels with much less expenditure than others.

When in the early thirties Harold Lasswell declared that “political symbols and practices are so intimately intertwined with the larger array of symbols and practices in culture that it is necessary to extend the scope of political investigation to include the fundamental features of the culture setting”, he was very much a voice in the wilderness. Today Lasswell's words have almost become commonplace in the vocabulary of political science. In this, as in many other current concerns, Lasswell's early work has rightly been judged seminal. It substantially contributed towards the prolific expansion of the academic boundaries of political enquiry within the last three decades, in particular to the growth of interest in psychological and sociological approaches. Increasingly students of political behavior in both ‘established’ and ‘emergent’ nations have come to realize that purely formal and legalistic conceptual frameworks are inadequate to provide meaningful answers to such problems as persistence and change, socialization, political cohesion, and the complex bases of political authority and legitimacy. This realization, though it has made political science a more rather than less problematical undertaking, nonetheless has had the result of adding new dimensions or perspectives to its analytical vision. Indeed, in the course of this development the very notion of the political has undergone a profound re-appraisal.

The Cuban missile crisis is a seminal event. For thirteen days of October 1962, there was a higher probability that more human lives would end suddenly than ever before in history. Had the worst occurred, the death of 100 million Americans, over 100 million Russians, and millions of Europeans as well would make previous natural calamities and inhumanities appear insignificant. Given the probability of disaster—which President Kennedy estimated as “between 1 out of 3 and even”—our escape seems awesome. This event symbolizes a central, if only partially thinkable, fact about our existence. That such consequences could follow from the choices and actions of national governments obliges students of government as well as participants in governance to think hard about these problems.

Improved understanding of this crisis depends in part on more information and more probing analyses of available evidence. To contribute to these efforts is part of the purpose of this study. But here the missile crisis serves primarily as grist for a more general investigation.

This study proceeds from the premise that marked improvement in our understanding of such events depends critically on more self-consciousness about what observers bring to the analysis. What each analyst sees and judges to be important is a function not only of the evidence about what happened but also of the “conceptual lenses” through which he looks at the evidence. The principal purpose of this essay is to explore some of the fundamental assumptions and categories employed by analysts in thinking about problems of governmental behavior, especially in foreign and military affairs.

Once a political community has decided which of its members are to participate directly in the making of collective policy, an important question remains: “How many of them must agree before a policy is imposed on the community?” Only if participation is limited to one man does this question become trivial. And this choice of decision-rules may seem only a little less important than the choice of rules in a world so largely governed by committees, councils, conventions, and legislatures. This paper is about the consequences of these rules for individual values.

Both the oral and written traditions of political theory have generally confined the search for optimal (or “best”) decision-rules to three alternatives. The rule of consensus tells us that all direct participants must agree on a policy which is to be imposed. Majority-rule tells us that more than half must concur in a policy if it is to be imposed. And the rule of individual initiative (as we may call it), holds that a policy is imposed when any single participant approves of it. These three decision-rules—“everyone,” “most of us,” and “anyone”—are terribly important, but they cannot be said to exhaust the available alternatives.

The list of alternatives is just as long as a committee's roster. Only for a committee of three would ‘consensus,’ ‘majority’ and ‘individual initiative’ exhaust the possibilities. In a committee of n members, we have n possible rules. Let the decision-rule be a minimum number of individuals (k) required to impose a policy.

The word ideology points to a black box. As a philosopher puts it, ideology “signifies at the same time truth and error, universality and particularity, wisdom and ignorance.” Likewise, for the political scientist the term ideology points to a cluster concept, i.e., belongs to the concepts that bracket a variety of complex phenomena about which one tries to generalize; and the growing popularity of the term has been matched, if anything, by its growing obscurity. All in all, one is entitled to wonder whether there is any point in using “ideology” for scholarly purposes. And my specific question will be whether there is a technical meaning, or meanings, of “ideology” which constitute a necessary tool of enquiry for a science of politics.

Discussions about ideology generally fall into two broad domains, namely, ideology in knowledge and/or ideology in politics. With respect to the first area of inquiry the question is whether, and to what extent, man's knowledge is ideologically conditioned or distorted. With respect to the second area of enquiry the question is whether ideology is an essential feature of politics and, if so, what does it explain. In the first case “ideology” is contrasted with “truth,” science and valid knowledge in general; whereas in the second case we are not concerned with the truth-value but with the functional value, so to speak, of ideology. In the first sense by saying ideology we actually mean ideological doctrine (and equivalents), whereas in the second sense we ultimately point to an ideological mentality (also called, hereinafter, ideologism).

Without much question, the third-party movement of George C. Wallace constituted the most unusual feature of the 1968 presidential election. While this movement failed by a substantial margin in its audacious attempt to throw the presidential contest into the House of Representatives, in any other terms it was a striking success. It represented the first noteworthy intrusion on a two-party election in twenty years. The Wallace ticket drew a larger proportion of the popular vote than any third presidential slate since 1924, and a greater proportion of electoral votes than any such movement for more than a century, back to the curiously divided election of 1860. Indeed, the spectre of an electoral college stalemate loomed sufficiently large that serious efforts at reform have since taken root.

At the same time, the Wallace candidacy was but one more dramatic addition to an unusually crowded rostrum of contenders, who throughout the spring season of primary elections were entering and leaving the lists under circumstances that ranged from the comic through the astonishing to the starkly tragic. Six months before the nominating conventions, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon had been the expected 1968 protagonists, with some greater degree of uncertainty, as usual, within the ranks of the party out of power. The nominating process for the Republicans followed the most-probable script rather closely, with the only excitement being provided by the spectacle of Governors Romney and Rockefeller proceeding as through revolving doors in an ineffectual set of moves aimed at providing a Republican alternative to the Nixon candidacy. Where things were supposed to be most routine on the Democratic side, however, surprises were legion, including the early enthusiasm for Eugene McCarthy, President Johnson's shocking announcement that he would not run, the assassination of Robert Kennedy in the flush of his first electoral successes, and the dark turmoil in and around the Chicago nominating convention, with new figures like Senators George McGovern and Edward Kennedy coming into focus as challengers to the heir apparent, Vice President Hubert Humphrey.

In recent years the welter of data accumulated on American voting behavior has been continually reanalyzed by social scientists interested in building theories of electoral choice. Most of the original data-gathering enterprises were guided by general theoretical frameworks which, for the most part, were not developed to a point where the ensuing analyses addressed themselves unambiguously to the overall conceptions by which they were guided. As a result much of our knowledge about voting behavior is in the form of generalizations about what social and psychological variables account for voting choices while we lack conceptual frameworks which systematically interrelate these generalizations and provide comprehensive and parsimonious explanation. If any one unifying conception has emerged from the original large scale studies it is that the average voter is irrational. This inference has been derived from a variety of empirical relationships coupled with varying conceptions of rationality.

The more recent reanalyses of these data sets have been characterized by a theoretical sophistication that was lacking heretofore. One of these, a theory of the calculus of voting, has applied some formal rigor to the question of the rationality of the decision to vote, selected empirical equivalents of theoretical entities from survey data on national elections, and conducted a successful test of the theory. Unlike traditional approaches to the rationality question which infer the degree of rationality from quantities of information possessed or from correlates of decisions (background, party affiliation, group memberships, etc.), this investigation conceived of rationality in terms of the kind of calculus employed by the individual in deciding among alternatives (in this case whether or not to vote).

Theories of the economic causes of war are at least as old as capitalism, and have in recent years appeared in myriad forms. Around the turn of the last century J. A. Hobson and Lenin developed their famous arguments about the economic driving forces behind imperialist expansion; American opponents of their country's entry into World War I blamed the lobbying of munitions makers; more recently we have had C. Wright Mills and the New Left. The assertions of these theorists are not always susceptible to scientific examination, but to supplement them there have in the past few years been a number of sound and well-documented studies locating in the national economy the groups that benefit most from military expenditures. Such studies show very effectively which industries, and which states, gain disproportionately from defense spending and hence develop some special interest in maintaining or increasing those expenditures. One need not accept Marxist or other extreme positions on the causes of war to find such information relevant to identifying political pressure groups that must be countered or compensated in any effort to reduce the level of military spending.

A question closely related to “Who benefits from defense spending?” is, of course, “Who pays for it?”; but curiously this second problem has received very little attention. Nothing comes free, and defense is no exception. In this paper we shall examine some evidence about what segments of the economy and society sacrifice disproportionately when defense spending rises.

Since the writings of the judicial realists in the 1920's and 1930's almost all social scientists have accepted the concept that the judicial process is basically political. One line of reasoning points out that judges inevitably are policy makers because of their functions, such as constitutional and statutory interpretation. Politics is conflict among interests or values or demands, and any activity, including judicial decisions, which advantages one interest as opposed to others is political activity. Since judges decide cases involving interest conflicts, theirs is “interest activity not as a matter of choice but of function.” Robert H. Jackson made the point cogently when he argued that the “Supreme Court has, from the very nature of its functions, been deep in power politics …” Of the power of judicial review, he said, “The ultimate function of the Supreme Court is nothing less than the arbitration between fundamental and ever-present rival forces or trends in our organized society.” Although these remarks were addressed to the Supreme Court, they are true to a substantial degree of judicial power throughout the American system. Many of the conflicts adjudicated by the judiciary advance some interests or values and disadvantage others.

At the same time that the judicial function has been recognized as political in its consequences, the process of judicial decision making has come to be viewed as involving wide opportunities for discretion by the judges. The mechanical theory of judging, enunciated most clearly by the late Justice Owen Roberts, is now generally in disrepute, and realists prefer to cite Charles Evans Hughes who stated “We are under the Constitution, but the Constitution is what the judges say it is.”

Nominally, the English became a nation in the eighth century but did not achieve political integration until the seventeenth century, a thousand years later. During the millennium, the English “nation” was the scene of recurring internal wars, the last ending with the acceptance of the Bill of Rights by William III and Mary in 1688. What was the process leading to cessation in the use of armed conflict as a technique of domestic politics in England?

Nominally, Mexico was an independent nation in 1821 but did not see the end of its internal wars until the 1940's. What political process led to domestic “arms control” in Mexico?

Although taking place in different centuries and in nations with distinct political cultures, were there common elements in the two transitions to internal arms control? What were critical factors in the integrative process? May the same factors, or analogous ones, be identified and controlled in contemporary efforts related to regional and international arms control? What may be learned from the English, the Mexican, and other national cases that is generalizable to the problem of international political integration and arms control?

The present theory sketch views arms control as an aspect of the integration of political organizations. Political integration, in turn, is the consequence of a process of political transactions among principal political actors over time.

In this paper I will endeavor to do the following: (1) test how far certain concepts dealing with individual orientations to politics, previously used in studies of relatively advanced European societies, are appropriate to populations in developing countries; (2) ascertain how far these separate dimensions of individual political orientation cohere as a syndrome, indicating the existence of a general underlying dimension of “participant citizenship;” (3) identify elements among common orientations to politics which cannot be incorporated in this general syndrome; and (4) assess the importance of certain social experiences or forces in inculcating the qualities of participant citizenship in individuals exposed to these influences.

These objectives will be better understood if they are seen in the context of the larger research program of which this report is a part, namely the Harvard Project on the Social and Cultural Aspects of Economic Development. The project is an investigation of the forms and sources of modernization in individuals. Its focus is on the person rather than the society or the institution, and its emphasis is socio-psychological rather than purely sociological or structural. Six countries are represented: Argentina and Chile, East Pakistan and India, Nigeria and Israel. This report will not, however, emphasize national differences, but rather treat each sample as another replication of the basic design. We assume that if something holds true for six such different countries, it must be a powerful connection indeed.

This paper seeks to open for exploration the field of decentralization in politics and organizational design. As a first approach, it examines conditions under which decentralization is preferable from the viewpoint of rationality or cost-effectiveness. Our normative statements as to what would be best, or what should be done, are formulated first from the viewpoint of the subjects or clients, but they are expected to include the interest of the community in ensuring adequate service at low cost, and they also include the interest of the rulers, insofar as their power in the long run depends on their capacity to respond to the demands made upon them quickly enough and adequately enough to retain their political support.

The political theory underlying our study assumes that modern governments retain “their just powers by the consent of the governed,” and hence that both their legitimacy and their power will depend at least in significant part on their ability to respond adequately to the popular demands made upon them. We do not deal in this study with other important criteria of preference, such as the psychological value which some of those who take the role of powerholders may put upon centralized control, or the contrary value which some of those who identify with their subjects may put upon power sharing and decentralization.

Scholars interested in theorizing about political representation in terms relevant to democratic governance in mid-twentieth century America find themselves in a quandary. We are surrounded by functioning representative institutions, or at least by institutions formally described as representative. Individuals who presumably “represent” other citizens govern some 90 thousand different political units—they sit on school and special district boards, on township and city councils, on county directorates, on state and national assemblies, and so forth. But the flourishing activity of representation has not yet been matched by a sustained effort to explain what makes the representational process tick.

Despite the proliferation of representative governments over the past century, theory about representation has not moved much beyond the eighteenth-century formulation of Edmund Burke. Certainly most empirical research has been cast in the Burkean vocabulary. But in order to think in novel ways about representative government in the twentieth-century, we may have to admit that present conceptions guiding empirical research are obsolete. This in turn means that the spell of Burke's vocabulary over scientific work on representation must be broken.

To look afresh at representation, it is necessary to be sensitive to the unresolved tension between the two main currents of contemporary thinking about representational relationships. On the one hand, representation is treated as a relationship between any one individual, the represented, and another individual, the representative—an inter-individual relationship. On the other hand, representatives are treated as a group, brought together in the assembly, to represent the interest of the community as a whole—an inter-group relationship. Most theoretical formulations since Burke are cast in one or the other of these terms.

One of the more fertile sources of data for systematic comparative political studies is in the regional differences that abound within political systems. When such differences are large and politically significant, explaining them becomes intriguing and important, especially if their causes cannot be found in the more familiar classes of socioeconomic variables.

Our purpose here is to present a preliminary analysis of a widely discussed intrasystem political difference—that between Northern and Southern California. This regional split has received particularly wide attention since the 1964 Republican primary, when Senator Goldwater's landslide majority in the South overcame his resounding defeat in the San Francisco Bay Area and insured his presidential nomination. Attempts to explain this pronounced regional variation have generated propositions about the political consequences of those social and economic conditions thought to be characteristic of Southern California. Since that area's most striking feature is its continuous rapid growth and economic development, many writers have been led to speculate that anxieties resulting from such changes lead to ultraconservative political preferences. These propositions are of considerable interest to students of politics, since neither economic growth nor its presumed attitudinal consequence is unique to Southern California, nor, for that matter, to the United States. AVe will examine various explanations for California's regional variation, with special emphasis on propositions about economic growth. Our data are from the 1960 Census, 1964 and 1968 election returns, and a series of statewide sample surveys conducted during the 1964 campaigns.